There once was a man named Muldoon,
Who couldn’t carry a tune.
He’d sing all day,
If he had his way,
But his wife made him swallow a broom!
There was an old man in his eighties
Who desired to love younger ladies.
He puffed and he panted,
Yet they were enchanted
'Cause they had his wallet as he headed for Hades.
There was a young man from Tangiers,
Who loved to tease all the queers
He rolled a sock in his pants
And he learned how to prance
Till, fooling himself, he became one of the dears
There was a stud on the net called “Big Banyon, ”
He had a tool the size of a cannon,
And every lady ran
From this humongous man
Till he met a gal surfers called “Grand Canyon.”
Middle Age Crisis
From a high window
Through dusty air
A finger of light
Now, my light,
Falls to weaker light,
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You are my firefly,
Amid the others.
Your cool light beckons me.
Yes I have decided,
Amid the others,
You are my firefly.
Sometimes I see you clearly,
Sometimes I lose you in the darkness,
And search with my heart for light.
I must anticipate your luminescence,
Where your pulsing light will be
And where my hands must be
To gently hold you
And make your light my own
And make your glow touch my darkness.
The Man By The Sea
He who lived in the house by the sea,
had withdrawn... utterly.
He who shuttered windows tightly,
and locked the door so solidly
against the wind from the sea,
the wild, wind from the sea.
had slumped to easy chair complacency,
stagnant with responsibility,
and walled with predictability
until he yearned to be free-
to open all triumphantly.
He who worked the proper hours,
sheltered from the distant powers
of sun and cold and monsoon showers
cried “Enough, ” and opened windows wide
To feel the sea wind riding a rising tide,
To hear mermaids sing their enchanted melody,
To watch gulls dip and glide above a foaming sea.
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